


Let's be Idiots Together

by Ravenesta



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, basically long distance relationship spawns out of random chatroom encounter you know the deal, dear god its summer, i miss christmas i guess, i wrote this like a year ago holy fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenesta/pseuds/Ravenesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is going to flip his shit if Marco doesn't answer the phone right fucking now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's be Idiots Together

Three years.

Three years since bored college student Jean Kirstein went onto some random chat site, intending to mess with some idiots. He ended up getting into an hour long conversation about some stupid band with undoubtedly the nicest person he had ever met, virtual or otherwise. He hadn’t even noticed how long he’d been chatting with the other person until he looked around and noticed that his tiny apartment was illuminated only by the light of his laptop. As if to emphasize how late it was, his stomach gave a monstrous gurgle. His fingers danced across the keyboard.

_Seabiscuit104: hey man its actually p late over here i gotta go eat but it was nice talkin with ya_

_Freckled_jesus: Yeah, you too. :)_

_Freckled_jesus: Oh, wait!_

_Freckled_jesus: I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but do you think we could exchange emails? I’d like to maybe chat with you again?_

_Seabiscuit104: yeah sure im j-kirstein@3dmg.com_

_Freckled_jesus: Cool, I’m mbodt@titanmail.org!_

(Jean’s username was, of course, a long time nickname he had earned after that fucker Jaeger had called him horseface, and after a while, it became a running joke.) Now, he didn’t get into the habit of handing out his email to total strangers that he met on a chat roulette. However, he actually found himself reluctant to leave the conversation with the self proclaimed Freckled Jesus. In fact, he was, dare he say it, excited to have the chance to talk to him again.

A few days later, Jean got an email from mbodt@titanmail.org. The guy introduced himself as Marco, or “freckled_jesus from the chat roulette. It’s a nickname. A really embarrassing nickname.” Jean grinned down at his phone as he replied, confirming that he was indeed Seabiscuit, and admitted that his username was an equally embarrassing nickname. They were tentative, at first, tiptoeing around each other and staying on light, non-revealing topics. At some point, they found out that they were both around the same age, with Jean at 20 and Marco at 21. The two were both much more open after that, apparently both having expected the other to be a 55 year old pervert.

Comfortable chatting turned into the exchange of phone numbers, and Connie and Sasha began to complain that he paid more attention to his phone than to them. Even Jaeger noticed one day during lunch at the university, with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. “Who ya texting, Horseface? Finally found a mare?” He’d then snorted at Jean’s rapidly growing blush and indignant protests. Of course, Connie and Sasha were all over that shit. “Who is she? Is she hot?” Sasha squealed at him, grabbing for his phone. In his attempts to evade the brunette, he’d forgotten about Connie, who snatched the phone from his grasp. The shorter boy’s eyes widened, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh my god, he’s listed as Marco!” He chuckled, before Jean roughly grabbed his phone back. “I fucking knew it!” Sasha yelled, pumping a fist in the air. “Seriously though, is he hot?”

Jean had realized that he actually didn’t know what Marco looked like. Marco had readily agreed to a video chat, and Jean found himself much, much more nervous than he probably should be. He was just going to see the face of his new friend, right? No big deal. Besides, it was a two way street, Marco was going to see him too.

Yeah, wrong. Marco was attractive. And Jean was absolutely fucked. True to his username, Marco was indeed covered in freckles, as if someone had flicked a paintbrush covered in black paint across his cheeks. Even through the blurred, crappy laptop video, his smile was so bright and innocent and honest and Jean was so, so fucked. After a few moments, he noticed that Marco was looking at him oddly, cheeks pink and mouth slightly agape. “Uh, hey. Earth to Marco. You in there?”

Marco shook his head slightly, blinking. “Oh, sorry. It’s just... Jean... You’re kinda hot.”

People said that long distance relationships didn’t work, that you never truly knew that person, that it was impossible to fall in love through a computer screen. Fuck those people, Jean thought, because after stumbling around his rapidly growing feelings for Marco, and eventually exchanging awkward confessions, he’d had the best three years of his fucking life.

Three years that were about to become completely meaningless if Marco didn’t _answer the fucking phone._ For the past two Christmases, they’d sent each other presents and opened them on webcam, seeing as neither of them tended to spend time with family on the holidays. Marco’s present, a small, battered box covered in packaging tape, had been sitting on Jean’s desk for a couple of weeks now, and Marco had confirmed that Jean’s present had arrived the other day. Everything was perfect, except for the fact that Marco had apparently dropped off of the face of the earth. Jean instantly jumped to worst-case scenarios. _What if he’s hurt? What if he’s_ dead? _I’d never know, nobody would contact me-_

His panicked internal monologue was interrupted by the ding of his phone, and Jean practically dove across his desk to grab it. The text from Marco read, _“got you an extra present this year! :)”_ Jean replied with an eloquent _“?????!!?????”_ In the hopes that it would accurately convey his frazzled thoughts. There was no reply however, and five minutes later, Jean just about yelped when his doorbell rang. He opened the door to one Marco Bodt, swathed in a faded red “Sina University” hoodie and grinning as if he hadn’t just caused Jean’s third heart attack of the night. Marco is stuttering out some mixture of apology and greeting, cheeks burning and one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously when Jean engulfs him in a hug, forcing the air out of the taller boy’s lungs. Jean felt Marco’s arms wrap around his shoulders as he pressed his face into the crook of Marco’s neck. “Merry Christmas, Jean,” Marco murmured into Jean’s hair.

“Merry fucking Christmas, Marco.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like a year ago ok i refuse to take responsibility for any of this  
> also thanks to grace for asking me to write jeanmarco at christmas so very long ago  
> i will never finish any of your other prompts  
> <3


End file.
